Hidden Charm: women love anal

“women love anal” is morning light through lace curtains. She wakes tangled in white sheets, hair wild, skin warm. The first thing “women love anal” shows is her hand slipping beneath cotton panties already soaked from dreams. Lazy circles turn urgent; fabric darkens under her touch. She kicks the sheet away, knees falling open, giving “women love anal” an unobstructed view of fingers plunging in and out, thumb relentless on her clit. Sunbeams dance across trembling thighs. In “women love anal”, she comes quietly at first—then louder, back bowing off the mattress, crying “women love anal” like a prayer into the empty room as pulses milk her fingers dry.